


Once Upon A Time

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-21
Updated: 2006-03-21
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Daniel needs a little help from a friend to get through a bad day after his wife's death.





	Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

'Once upon a time . . .isn't that the way fairy tales start out? Aren't all stories supposed to start that way?

Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Danny. His parents loved him very much. They took him all around the world and showed him treasures buried in the crust of the past. Then one day one of those treasures killed them. It crushed the life out of their bodies. It crushed the dreams out of the little boy.

He went to live with a temporary family because what was left of his own family didn't want him. The little boy grew up. When he outgrew his temporary home, he made a new one for himself in the world of books, and ideas. He found the joy his parents had in delving into the past to uncover its secrets. He delighted in the pursuit of learning. He made new friends to share his quest. He took a lover to warm his bed.

Then one day he solved a puzzle. He showed it to his friends, his lover. They told him to forget about it, to leave it alone. They didn't want to see the answer. He showed it to his peers. They laughed behind his back and slammed doors in his face. He showed it to the world. He was ridiculed. His friends backed away from him, afraid the scorn would be contagious. His lover left him, angry that he wouldn't do what she wanted. He held onto his answer, but lost everything else.

He walked away from that world and stumbled into another. Through a stone hoop, he discovered a place of burning sands, gentle people, and amazing truths. He began to build a new life for himself, a new home with a new lover. It looked like he was going to get that happily-ever-after he had heard of in the stories.

Then it all fell to pieces. His love was ripped away in an act of violence. He lost the place he had made for himself while he searched for her. He found her once, for a brief moment. He delivered her child into the world, but even that was taken from him. His quest ended with her still, lifeless form stretched out on the ground light-years from home. His dreams had died, along with his hope. They were buried with her in the hot sands of her home, a place he no longer belonged.

So where was the happy ending?'

"I think he's starting to come around." A familiar gruff voice floated in the darkness.

"Daniel, can you hear me? Daniel?" A higher voice, a woman's voice, joined them. He wanted to turn his head away but didn't have the strength to move. He felt the rough surface of the carpet against his cheek. Bile rose in his throat at the reek of alcohol, sweat, and vomit.

"Let me try," the gruff voice said. Hands were touching him, shifting him, lifting him away from the foul smell. He felt himself being pulled upward. Something firm was at his back, something strong encircled him. His head lolled to the side, landing against a scratchy warmth. "Daniel, you need to open your eyes. Come on, time to wake up," the voice said. The surface behind him rumbled with the voice as its breath stirred his hair.

"I'll call Janet." The woman's voice was edged with worry. It made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to have to deal with her worry.

"No," the man said sharply. "I don't want this on record. We'll take care of it."

"But . . ."

"I said no. We'll handle this."

"Yes, sir."

"We need to get some coffee down him, dilute the rot gut he's been swilling."

"I'm on it." He could hear muffled steps as the woman left the room. He felt himself relax now that she was gone. 

"Daniel, I need you to wake up now. Open your eyes. It's okay. You're safe." The man's voice was still there. It was trying to sound reassuring, but the concern in it pressed down on him.

Why couldn't he just be left alone? He had been alone before. He knew how to do it, and when solitude got too hard to handle there was always other methods to bring oblivion. It was true he hadn't used them in a long time. He hadn't felt the need until yesterday. 

Yesterday had been a bad day. 

"The coffee is brewing, sir. I brought this. I thought it might help." The woman's voice was back, adding its weight to the rest of burden of reality trying to crush him.

Something cold touched his face, making his features contract, his head twist sharply away. The soft fabric was laid on his forehead again. He tried to shake it off.

"Daniel," the gruff voice sounded exasperated this time, "you have to let us help you."

'No,' he thought, 'that's the beauty of being alone. I don't have to let you help me. I don't have to do anything.'

"Please, Daniel." The voice was quieter than before, a pleading note in it sending a shiver through him. That voice didn't plead. It yelled; it argued; it sniped; it cursed, but it didn't plead. The cool, damp cloth trailed down his cheek. He let it. There was another touch, this one on his wrist. 

"His pulse and respiration are good. I think his color is getting better," the woman said. He felt her hand slide down from his wrist to his fingers. He wanted her to put his hand back on the floor where she'd found it. 

"He's going to be fine." The man's voice was firm. It almost sounded like a command. Who was he issuing the order to? The woman, to believe what she was being told or himself, to do it? It didn't matter. Being alone meant he didn't have to do what others said. Being alone meant he didn't need their support, that the disbelief of those around him couldn't hurt him. Right now, the best course of action was to do nothing, to sink into the darkness and leave all the weight of worry behind. The pain, the anger, the emptiness all disappeared in the dark, swallowed up by the numbing depths. 

The man had other ideas.

"Daniel." His name was accompanied by a sharp stinging slap to the face. He grunted, his eyes popping opened in surprise, only to snap shut again against the ugly light coming through the open curtains. "Daniel, I have coffee. I want you to drink it." 

A strong, rich scent filled his nostrils, replacing the earlier smell of sickness. A warm ceramic lip met his. It pressed into his own, pushing back against his teeth. "Take a sip, Daniel," the voice commanded.

The smell of the coffee wafted through his olfactory senses, making his mouth water and his stomach churn. He parted his lips to let the hot liquid pour in. It scalded his tongue. He swallowed quickly. It washed away the sour taste that had been there before. More was forced into his mouth. He drank it all. It warmed him even as it stirred his stomach into rebellion.

"Keep it coming." The voice spoke as the cup disappeared. A faint 'yes, sir' was heard over retreating footsteps. "Okay, Daniel, I want you to open your eyes."

"Mmm, no," he murmured, shaking his head slightly to emphasize the denial. It made him nauseous. He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to rejoin the world of the living, not just yet. He knew there was something unfinished, something he needed to do, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to have to fight with the others to convince them, to make them believe in what he had to say, to help him do what he needed to do. He wanted to float in the darkness and be left alone, but the wet cloth on the back of his neck and the voice in his ear stubbornly remained.

"I know, buddy. I know what it's like. I've been there, but this isn't the answer."

The cup was back. More hot coffee was forced into him. Some dribbled out of the corners of his mouth, dripping off his chin. He felt each warm drop. He felt each muscle bunch against his back with the movement of the man with the cup. One arm imprisoned him, the other was trying to drown him. He inhaled the coffee, choking on it. The cup disappeared as he coughed, then reappeared when the fit subsided. He wasn't given a choice in the matter. More coffee made its way down his throat joining the acid in his stomach.

"That's it, drink it." 

He forced his eyes open a sliver. The room beyond was bright. He remembered stars shining through the window before. A movement made him blink. A blurry woman was kneeling in front of him.

"You're going to be okay, Daniel." She smiled at him. It was a weak smile, false and trembling around the edges. That smile bothered him. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it. He drank more coffee. It churned inside him for a minute longer, then erupted. He heard the woman's shriek as the spewed coffee splattered between them. The man behind him cursed. When his stomach was empty again, he let his head drop forward. The arm around him was the only thing keeping him from falling into the stinking puddle.

"Help me get him on his feet," the voice behind him rumbled. He felt himself being hauled upward. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to join in the activity. "To the bedroom."

He has dragged, his body hanging limply between the two grunting bodies on either side of him. He was dropped on something soft. He sprawled gracelessly, uncaring. Hands tugged and pulled at him, moving him, rolling him over, pushing at him. At some point, the woman left, so that by the time the cool air caressed his bare skin, only the man's voice shared the darkness behind his eyelids with him.

"Okay, Daniel, we're going to take a little shower here. It's going to be cool, so get ready." The voice panted as the hands forced him up. The carpet under his feet gave way to tiles. The sound of running water filled his ears. He jolted back, gasping, as the cold spray struck him. He slammed into something hard and unyielding.

"It's about time you woke up," the voice said as the hands forced him back under.

"Damn it, Jack!" 

He found his voice. He found his strength as he jerked away from those confining hands. The water splashed against his face, into his sweat-slicked hair, running down his torso and legs. Goose bumps sprang up as shivers ran through him. He made a grab for the knob and turned the shower off. He looked back over his shoulder at the man blocking the shower entrance. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Sobering you up," the dry answer came back immediately.

"Get out."

"No."

He had to put a hand against the shower wall to stop the bathroom from wavering. The man in front of him produced a towel and offered it to him. He took it, awkwardly dried off, then wrapped it around himself. He was shaking with the cold, his teeth chattering. Jack stepped out of his way and let him weave his unsteady way back to the bed where he fell face first into a heap. The towel was tugged out from under him, and a warm blanket thrown across his body. 

"Get some sleep."

"Go away, Jack," he asked quietly, his voice muffled by the mattress.

"No, Daniel."

"Please."It was his turn to plead.

"Not a chance." The bed dipped as Jack settled his weight next to Daniel huddled under the blanket. He felt a hand through the wool rubbing circles on his back. It was soothing. The darkness pulled at him. "We can talk later . . . if you want to."

He couldn't muster the energy to answer. He had tried talking already. It hadn't gotten him anywhere. It didn't lessen the grip of pain squeezing his heart. The hand continued to gently ease him into sleep.

'Once upon a time, there was an unlucky man named Daniel. He was given a family, but lost them under the dark shadow of an ancient cover stone. He was given a talent, but when he used it, he lost the respect of his peers under a dark cloud of mockery. He was given a beautiful wife, but lost her to the darkness too. He lost his chance at the happy-ever-after. He lost everything he had, even faith. He looked around and saw only emptiness and despair. So he decided to lose himself too. He almost succeeded, but there was something he had forgotten. He still had one thing that he hadn't lost. One very important thing.'

"I'll be here once you've slept it off." The gruff voice was fading into the darkness. "I'm not going anywhere. None of us are."

The next thing Daniel was aware of was the muted sound of the television in the next room combined with the sick pounding in his head. It made the prospect of opening his eyes a definitely unpleasant one. His bladder, however, wasn't worried about the jackhammer inside his skull. With a groan that rattled his brain, he pushed the blanket off and carefully levered himself upright. It took a few deep breaths for the carpet to decide to stay flat on the floor. A twilight sky was visible through the blinds.

He staggered to the bathroom to relieve the pressure. He didn't bother with the light. He fumbled in the medicine cabinet for Tylenol, swallowing them with a swig from the faucet. He brushed his teeth in the gloom, avoiding looking into the mirror, then staggered back out into the bedroom. There was a strip of light coming from under the bedroom door. 

He found Jack slumped in an armchair, feet propped up on the coffee table, sound asleep. The television was chattering on about benefits of a certain skin cream. He turned the noise box off, crossing his arms against the entertainment center and resting his aching head on them.

"Daniel, how you feeling?" A low voice came from behind him. He slowly lifted his head and turned bloodshot eyes to the man now standing by his elbow.

"Like shit."

"Not surprising. You want something to eat?"

"No," Daniel said emphatically, his stomach rolling at the thought of bacon and eggs.

"Dry toast will do you good. Come on." A hand tugged gently at his elbow. He let himself be led to the dining room and deposited in a chair. In short order, a mug of fresh coffee and a plate of dry toast appeared on the table in front of him. Jack took a chair and sat with his chin propped on a fist. Daniel bypassed the bread and started on the coffee.

"Want something for the headache?" Jack asked quietly.

"Took Tylenol." The equally quiet answer came between sips.

"Eat the toast, Daniel. It'll help some."

He pushed the empty mug towards the other man and dropped his head down on the table. With a sigh, Jack took the mug back to the kitchen and refilled it. He set it down, accidentally catching the edge of the plate. Daniel moaned at the clatter and pulled away from the source of the punishing sound.

"Sorry," Jack mumbled. Daniel grunted and picked up the mug. "You owe Sam a nice dinner out, you know, for cleaning up that mess in the living room."

"Where is Sam?"

"She went home."

"Why did you stay?"

"Figured you could use a friend when you woke up."

"I could use some peace and quiet."

"I can do quiet."

"Go home, Jack."

"Don't think that's such a good idea, Daniel."

"I'll be fine. I'll go back to bed and sleep for a while. Go home."

"Eat your toast."

He munched the dry toast, washing it down with coffee. It stayed on his stomach and went a small way towards easing the pain in his head. Once he'd finished it, he didn't have the energy to move, so he laid his arms on the table to create a cushion for his heavy head. He could feel Jack's concerned presence close by. 

"Next time you feel the need to knock back the hard stuff, give me a call, will ya?" 

"Why?" 

"I'll join you, and I'll bring something a whole lot better than that crap you were drinking. What'cha do, roll a wino on the way home?"

He grunted, wincing at the way the other man's voice grated on his eardrums.

"You could have given yourself a nasty case of alcohol poisoning, you know."

The clock on the wall ticked loudly. 

"I wish I could tell you the pain goes away in time, Daniel. It doesn't. You'll always miss her. There'll be this hole in your life you can't fill no matter what, but it does get easier to deal with in time. I promise." 

A hand landed on his shoulder, giving him a squeeze before sliding down his slumped back to gently rub those soothing circles. The whir of the air conditioner filled the room. The clock continued to tick. 

"You're going to be okay," whispered the gruff voice behind him. Two strong hands continued to rub his back, offering comfort in a way more concrete than words. The warmth of the touch went through him. It seeped past cloth, skin, and bone until it trickled down into the heart of his pain.

"I know," Daniel acknowledged with a sigh. He kept his head buried in his arms, not daring to look up. 

'Once upon a time, there was a man named Daniel. He went on a long journey that took him so far from home he lost his way. Through the darkness of anger, heartache, and pain, he trudged on, always seeking. The road was filled with treacherous turns and fearsome dangers, but he knew he could keep going as long as he wasn't alone. His companions on the road didn't always agree with him on which path was best. They didn't always believe him when he pointed out signs along the way, but he had no doubts they would always stay beside him. His story might not have a happy-ever-after, but it had friends who cared about him. In the end, maybe that was all that really mattered.'


End file.
